The Blight spread fast in the days that followed, transforming all life in the castle.
Windows got boarded up and furnaces burned constantly in a clamour to keep the air pure of whatever miasma had poisoned the Narnian wood. The smell of smoke, sage and lavender lingering in every room and hall.
Servants darted about with brooms and tin pans and buckets full of ashes for the leaching barrels smoking in the backyards by the laundry house, billowing like gonfanons.
The still room, likewise, had never been busier; with apothecaries and physicians running around fetching ingredients for salves and potions that cured nothing but momentary discomforts. None of whom could tell Susan what caused the Sleeping Sickness and what might remedy it.
So desperate were they, that Susan had let Lucy drag her into a meeting with their diviners, which proved to be an equal amount of help.
“The skies are unclear, your majesties.”
“This sign may be interpreted in a dozen ways.”
“We cannot tell.”
Attacks on the villages had doubled, and each day their soldiers returned to the castle with more injured. More ill.
Once again, Susan met with an impossible decision: to close the doors to Cair Paravel and preserve those within, or risk everything in leaving them open to continue their relief efforts in the wider country.
“Well, we can’t bloody well close our doors to our own people!” boomed Mr. Georgie Beaver from his place beside Lucy on the council table. “It’s unfinkable!”
Alec the fox, who once served as a spy for Aslan’s army toward the end of Jadis’ reign, let out a long sigh. “As it stands, we simply cannot go on like this. If our current methods worked, things would not be so dire. They’re steadily getting worse, actually; and there’ll be nothing left if we insist upon this path.” He turned to Susan, hazel eyes solemn. “I have been around the country, of late. Most villages are encouraging self-segregation, to prevent the spread of infection. I myself have instructed those in the Foxgroves to do the same until new measures can be taken.”
“Just like a fox!” went Georgie. “Just like a bloody fox to hide in ‘is ‘ole at the firs’ sign of trouble!”
“With all due respect,” sighed Alec, “Beaversdam lies along the river, which—for you—means easier access to clean food and cleaner living. You cannot know of how fraught matters have become inland.”
“Don’t know, Alec? We’re only in the middle of the whole bloody wood! I’m tellin’ ya, it’ll be the end of us, this burrowing business. Why, the Black Company’ll pick us off one by one wif nuffin to show for it but tracks in the snow!”
“Now, now,” Tumnus said, petting the air. “There’s no need to shout. We all want what’s best for Narnia.”
“The fox speaks truthfully,” Thornbut the dwarf groaned on Susan’s right, silver rings glittering as he stroked his beard. “Nowt we’ve done so far’s worked, and we’ve got to control the spread like. As for the Company, discovering their hideout’s our only hope, really.”
At this, they turned to regard Susan, who had remained quiet the entire duration of the meeting.
“Thyra’s out searching the Dancing Lawn,” Susan offered. “We’re yet to hear a report.”
“Winnet be different from others before it,” Thornbut sighed, massaging a wrinkled forehead. “Sorry to say like.”
“Whatever the result, a decision must be made now,” Alec pressed. “We can’t afford not to act. Not even for a day.”
“Well, I agree with Mr. Beaver,” Lucy announced. “We can’t abandon our own. It’s barbaric.”
Alec sighed, lowering both ears and tail. “Your majesty—”
“We can’t leave them to fend for themselves,” Lucy said, her voice taking on that pleading, pitchy quality that usually meant she had grown exasperated. “It’s our duty to protect all of Narnia.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple—” began Alec.
“Ain’t it?” countered Georgie. “Every animal for ‘imself, eh? Want ta turn Narnia wild? Lion knows you predator types are half on your way to being nuffin’ buh beasts.”
“Mr. Beaver, please,” said Tumnus, blinking rapidly in a flustered sort of way. “There’s no need—”
“It’s alright, Tumnus,” Alec said with a gracious bow of his head. “It’s the beaver way to extend home and hearth to all sorts. They also can’t help but be a little near-sighted when it comes to matters above the water.”
“Watch it,” growled Georgie.
Alec’s whiskers curled in a smirk. “Honestly, Georgie, you talk of being civilized and you can hardly hold a discussion without exploding in righteous anger. If dear Anne were here, I’m sure you’d be much more agreeable.”
“Got extra pups in the dam to feed this winter. So keep your trap shut, Alec, and don’t try to be smart with me.”
“Please. I’m hardly trying.”
“Say vat again and I’ll knock ya up the ol’ salmon and trout!”
(excerpt from Radiant, "2. The Wolf & The Brambling")
